


Grieving

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-12
Updated: 2009-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: It's quite a diverse subject, grieving. You've got the crier, the angry one, the 'unaffected' one, and so many other options. How does one event cause five people to act in such different ways?





	Grieving

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**_Disclaimer:_ ** _I do not own this universe I love to play in, or it’s characters…although I sorely wish I did._

**_Author’s Note:_ ** _This was inspired by a quote from The Departed, when Matt Damon’s girlfriend tells Leonardo DiCaprio that his vulnerability is really freaking her out. Hope you can feel some of what I felt while writing...  
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With every passing day the letters became more frequent; the proportion of black envelopes to every other imaginable color kept increasing. It seemed endless, the number of deaths that directly affected the student population. A time that used to bring so much joy, the prospect of sweets from a loving grandparent, perhaps a few sickles from a thoughtful uncle, now, for most students, was the most dreaded part of the day. Every owl bearing a black envelope was scorned; perhaps if the students simply didn’t acknowledge the owl, no one would actually have died, nothing would break the small bubble of happiness they had built. There was nothing to describe the dread and panic that filled the hearts of the students as the black envelopes fluttered to the table. Who was it for? Was it a friend? How many had died? And, although none would admit it, every time the black envelope landed next to them, landed across the table, brought that dreaded news to a dear friend, the letterless would do a silent cheer in their head, once more relieved that their family was safe for at least one more day.

Despite the grave atmosphere that seemed to have overtaken Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there were some students who refused to give in. Four students, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, had taken up the momentous task of negating the effect of the black envelopes. Pranks they had once pulled to single someone out, to seek revenge on an enemy, were no longer directed at people in hopes of embarrassing, but in hopes of bringing a smile to the faces of their peers. Some people begrudged them their ability to be optimistic, saw them as unsympathetic to those who had lost someone in the war; others worshipped them, longing to have that same carefree attitude. Most, however, understood that the pranks they pulled, the jokes they played, the smart remarks they made to their professors, were all their way of coping with the war that was going on just beyond the gates of their school – the war they would be joining in a few months. If they didn’t change their attitude, if they kept going on like everything in the outside world was the same as it had been six years ago, then maybe, through sheer strength of will, by the time they graduated, it would be so.

Every morning, without fail, these four boys could be found sitting together at the front end of the Gryffindor table, planning their pranks quite conspicuously in front of the entire staff table. No student could quite figure out why they planned their rule breaking under the watchful eye of the Hogwarts professors, and the rumor that Professor Flitwick gave suggestions for improvement was never confirmed, but the boys vehemently insisted they preferred the quiet of the professors to the jabbering of the students.

“No way are we ever doing THAT again. I don’t care how funny you all think it was, YOU three didn’t get a full frontal of Slughorn,” Remus Lupin said with a rather painful look on his face, as if he’d just been force fed several flobberworms. “Ruined my bloody weekend that did.”

Sitting next to Lupin, James Potter effectively showered the boy across the table with his morning pumpkin juice. “Image I could’ve gone through breakfast without, mate.”

“And a mixture of saliva and lukewarm pumpkin juice is something _I_ could’ve gone without, you prat.” Sirius Black was wiping his face clean of James’ morning drink with a handkerchief Remus had managed to conjure through his laughter, all the while planning an effective way of returning James with the favor of body temperature beverages. So as to not give himself away, he turned to the boy sitting next to him.

“Pete, you never told us – did you manage to get us that Instant Darkness Powder?”

Peter Pettigrew’s eyes went wide as saucers, only just remembering he was the one responsible for the stealth portion of their latest magical fiasco.

“ _Wooormtail_ ,” the three boys groaned in unison.

“How are we supposed to-” the sound of flapping cut Sirius off; the morning post had arrived. In an attempt to ignore the owls rushing in, Sirius raised his voice. “HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GET INTO HER OFFICE WITHOUT IT?”

“I’ll get it next weekend, I SWEAR. Just lemme write to my mum,” Peter was staring apologetically at all three of his friends.

“Next weekend? Worm, we wanted to get the jinxes set up by-” Once again, the Marauder was cut off. This time, however, it wasn’t by a noise or another person. This time, he was cut off by the real reason the boys had chosen the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the Head table – an owl had just landed at the very end of the table and was walking toward them, black envelope in its beak.

By eating at the very end of the table, farthest away from the entrance, the boys were able to ignore the owls; there was never any confusion as to who the owl was going to land in front of if it made it down to them. This location, far away from the rest of the student body, was a key factor in their ability to remain optimistic.

Some say the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and this could not be more true on that day in the Great Hall. The four boys had been flying high, seemingly untouched by the daunting prospect of death, and nothing could overcome the din of their world crashing around them at that very moment. Unlike the rest of the student body, however, there would be no silent cheering from any of these boys. With the exception of the Blacks, a death in any of their families would be a devastating blow to all four hearts. As the bird walked what seemed like miles to the four boys, all thoughts of the Instant Darkness Powder were forgotten, replaced with an ever increasing sense of grief. As it passed Remus and Peter, tears already glistening in their eyes, James’ and Sirius’ faces went ghostly pale. Although none would admit to it, the four all secretly wished the letter would be going to Sirius – his blood family, in his eyes, had died two years ago. That hope, however, was crushed, as the owl turned away from Sirius, faced James, and dropped the black envelope on the table next to his now empty juice goblet.

The four boys stared at the envelope for what could’ve been hours, all in too much of a shock to do much of anything. There world had crashed around them in a matter of minutes; nothing would ever be the same. With each blink of their eyes, they all wished it to magically change into something different, but there was no mistaking the letter it front of them. _Mr. James Potter_ , emblazoned across the front of the envelope in gold ink, wouldn’t fade from their vision.

“Ja…James,” Remus managed to say through his shut throat.

“It can’t…they can’t…” his entire body was shaking, tears threatening to pour out of his eyes.

“Maybe, maybe you should open it,” Peter tried to be supportive.

“NO!” James lost control. “No, I will NOT open it. Because they are NOT gone.” And with that, he grabbed the letter, shoved his wand in his pocket, and walked out of the Great Hall, as far away from that cursed table as he could. In the distance he thought he heard Remus prevent Peter from following.

_They’re not gone. They’re not gone._ He repeated it over and over in his head, the thought being the only thing keeping him from losing his mind. As his feet carried him over the now familiar path to the Heads Common Room, he struggled to maintain his composure. He would not let anyone see him break, would not give the student Death Eaters the satisfaction of knowing he had crumbled.

“Password?” the young girl who protected the entrance to the Heads room asked.

He looked at her, opened her mouth to give the password, and promptly shut it again. He couldn’t speak, for fear of melting right there, mere feet from his sanctuary. Without realizing it, he squeezed his hands into tight fists and pressed his lips together tightly, and clamped his eyes shut, attempting to steel himself against the pain. His second attempt to mutter the password was somewhat more successful.

“Freedom,” his voice cracked.

Looking at him sympathetically, the child slowly swung the portrait open for him.

Upon entering the common room he glanced around, hoping that somehow this place that had brought him safety and happiness would make the hurt go away.

“Potter! What are you doing, standing in the doorway like that? You’re letting all the warmth out!” He looked up to see Lily Evans, the Head Girl, curled up in front of the fireplace, book in hand.

“Oh, I’m terribly,” he paused to regain his composure, just a few seconds away from losing it. “I’m terribly sorry that you’re feet are getting cold.” He stepped out of the doorway, letting the portrait close behind him.

Realizing that he would no longer be able to stay in his common room, the solitude he so craved no longer available, he walked into his room, letter still in hand, in search of the only things he had at school to connect him to his parents. Without turning a light on he reached to his right, feeling around for the school bag containing his cloak, that was always hanging from the hook next to the door. To his shock, it wasn’t there. Desperately racking his brain for where it would be, he felt himself losing it again. He had to get out of this room. This room that he knew if he were to turn on a lamp, would mock him with pictures of the parents he would never see smile again.

A flash of clarity reminded James that he had left his bag in the common room, dropping it on the couch last night after spending the evening in Slughorn’s personal quarters. Stealing himself once more against the pain, he walked out of his room, slamming the door, hoping that the extra effort would somehow get rid of some of the gnawing deep in his abdomen.

The slam of the door once again pulled Lily out of her book world, something she seemed none too happy about. She stood up and turned on the spot, eyes shooting daggers at him. Damned if he’d let her get the first word in though – this fight needed to end before it began.

“Not a word, Evans. I don’t want to deal with you-” he pointed at her, “and you’re stupid ‘better than thou’ attitude right now. Sod off.” He’d expected some form of retaliation, or at least a negative reaction, what he got was far from it.

“Oh, James…” Hearing the tone in her voice, he realized his mistake. The hand he’d used to point at her was the very same hand that held the unopened envelope.

“Please, don’t…” his voice quavered. It was getting harder and harder to hold it all in, but he couldn’t let her seem him defeated. Although she never would return the feelings, he had to be strong for her – he had few people to live for anymore.

Foregoing the bag, deciding he could make it out of the castle without the Invisibility Cloak, he turned to walk out of the room they shared. James thought he was in the clear when she didn’t immediately follow him, but he could not be that fortunate. Before he could reach the portrait hole she ran up behind him, lightly placing her hand on his arm, turning him ever so slightly.

“James,” she said softly, “James, look at me.”

The instant their eyes connected he regretted it. The emerald orbs, so often filled with anger and fire when looking at him, now held only the utmost understanding. With one look Lily made it impossible for him to block her out. She slowly picked her hand up off of his arm and moved it up to his face, lightly cradling his cheek. In that instant, James knew she cared. As he leaned his head into her hand, he didn’t care if tomorrow morning she would be back to her normal self, or if on Monday she would once again be glaring daggers at him across the room in Transfiguration. Right now she cared, and that was more than he could take.

His wall broke; no longer could he hold anything in. The tears came slowly at first, just a few of them dampening Lily’s hand on his cheek. Once the tears began though, he found it difficult to hold anything back, and the tears quickly turned into sobs. Before he knew it, Lily’s other hand was rubbing circles on his back, the one that had been on his cheek was holding the back of his head, pressing it to her ”‘shoulder. Somehow his arms had made it around her waist, which he was now clinging to like a lifeline. He could feel the shoulder of her robes soaking up his tears, but he couldn’t stem the flow, not even if he had actually tried. Unable to bear his weight for much longer, Lily lowered herself and James to the stone floor, where they stayed for hours.

James cried until there were no tears left in his body, and continued to sob into Lily’s lap for hours after that. His sobs slowly spread out, eventually stopping all together as he passed into unconsciousness, never letting go of Lily.

He woke up stiff and confused, unsure of where he was. There was a blanket on top of him, and underneath his head was a pillow from the couch, but why was he asleep on the floor in front of the portrait hole?

He sat up in an attempt to bring some feeling back to the left side of his body, something fell to the ground. As the object fell to the floor James was brought back to his harsh reality, _Mr. James Potter_ , glaring back at him. Still unable to open the envelope, he left it on the ground where it had fallen and stood up. He walked across the common room, back to his room for the second time today. Without turning on the light he walked to his bathroom, stepping over the quidditch gear that he knew was in a pile in the middle of the room.

The site that greeted him in the bathroom mirror was nowhere near a pleasant one. His cheeks were streaked with tears, salt still crusted on in some places. The hazel eyes that he usually joked were part Metamorphmagus, they changed color so often, were a dull brown color. His hair, already a force to be reckoned with, was now plastered to the side of his face, from a combination of tears and sleeping on the floor.

He turned on the cold water, and in an attempt to wash away the past twelve hours, flooded his face with ice water. Refreshing though it was, the water did nothing aside from remove the salt from his face.

James heard the portrait hole open slowly and quietly close.

“James?” Lily’s voice was soft, but it carried through the room.

As he walked out of the bathroom and through his room once more he was unable to manage a reply, his throat constricting on itself for the third time that day. When he reached his doorway he placed his hands in his pocket and leaned on the doorframe, afraid that if he didn’t have something else to support him he would sink to the ground from the weight in his stomach.

Lily bent over; she’d seen the black envelope lying next to the pillow and blanket she’d given to James when she’d gotten up.

“Did you stay with me all day?” He wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say. Did he want her to say no? That she had better things to do with her life than sit with an arrogant toerag all day? Or did he want her to say yes? Would that mean that she finally felt something between the two of them as well? Or that she just pitied him?

“I did.” She didn’t look at him when she said it though, not letting him see what emotion it was that was in her eyes. As she walked over to the couches she turned to face him. “Sit with me?”

Without a word he made his way to the couch she had already sat down on. The walk required more concentration than he expected, his knees threatening to buckle with every passing step. He sat down on the couch, not too close, unsure of if she wanted him near, but not too far either – he needed to feel her warmth.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to move any closer to her, Lily slid across the couch, closing the gap between them. She handed him the envelope he so hated, _Mr. James Potter._

“I can’t.” He gave the letter back to her.

“James, you need to. It’s not going to go away if you don’t.” Her voice was quiet, understanding. This was a completely new Lily, completely different from the fiery redhead he was used to. She placed the envelope in his hands once more, this time so the Ministry seal was facing him. “All you have to do is break the seal.”

His hands were shaking, was this really happening? Was he really about to open the envelope he’d always known was a possibility, but never actually thought would come? He slid his forefinger underneath the gold wax seal that seemed to taunt him as much as the letters on the other side, and broke it. He dropped the letter to the floor as if it were on fire, unable to think about the actual contents.

Tears began filling his eyes once more as he turned to Lily. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” she replied as she looked up into his eyes. As a single tear escaped his eye she reached up and wiped it away with her thumb, “I know you can.”

Lily reached to the floor and once more picked up the black envelope, and handed it to James. He looked at her again, searching for some form of help. When she simply stared back at him, unable to comprehend the intimacy of the look she was giving him, he turned to the letter in his hands. His hands were shaking as he pulled the black parchment out of the envelope, afraid to read what it said.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_It is with great regret that I write to inform you that Mr. Edward Potter and Mrs. Jane Potter have lost their lives in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They were both a credit to their family, and you should be proud that they died in the honorable way that they did._

_Sincerely,_

_Charlotte Bones_

_Department of Wizard Affairs_

The letter in his hands was a joke. Surely, no one could write such a callous, uncaring notification of death? It was almost laughable! There was nothing here that could be of any help to him, in anyway! He was supposed to feel better about being orphaned, simply because his parents died honorably?

“I’m an orphan.” Since he’d received the letter that morning he hadn’t made the connection. He had no parents, and therefore was an orphan. “I’m an…” He once again broke down into tears, unaware that he had any energy left to cry. Lily sat there with him in silence, cradling his head on her shoulder once more.

As the night passed on the two sat on the couch in silence, the food Lily brought back from dinner still forgotten in her bag. Somehow the two had ended up lying down on the couch, James resting his head on Lily’s stomach while she ran his hands through her hair. Both lost track of time, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually James’ breathing became deep and steady, as he fell asleep clinging to Lily for the second time in one day.

James woke up to the steady rise and fall of his head, realizing that Lily was still there. Afraid to wake her, he slowly pulled his hands out from underneath her back and made to sit up. His attempts were in vain though, because as soon as he shifted his weight, she too woke up.

“You’re still here,” he said to her. Unsure of why he said it, he turned to look at her.

Lily sat up and scooted herself closer to him, once again looking so deeply into his eyes he was forced to look away.

“I’ll always be here,” she said almost inaudibly.

He turned to look at her again, and was met with her lips, pressing delicately against his. 


End file.
